


J'te veux

by TheNaughtyVirgin (orphan_account)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dry Humping, M/M, Praise Kink, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6954580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheNaughtyVirgin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marc-André all alone and humping his bed... Thinking of Kris.</p><p>"But what had Marc-André melting was when Kris told him how good and perfect he was. The tip of his ears, hidden by his shoulder-lenght dark hair, would turn red from the words."</p>
            </blockquote>





	J'te veux

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fleury_29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fleury_29/gifts).



> For my little friend, Dakota. This is a short thingy I hope you will still like. <3

Marc-André came home after a particularly demanding workout. His skin was flushed by the hard work he had done at practice. When he got in his home, he headed straight to his bedroom. Once he arrived there, he flopped face first on his bed and breathed deeply against his pillow. 

Marc-André closed his deep brown eyes and thought about what had happened at practice this morning. It was no secret that Marc-André particularly liked his fellow French Canadian defence-man, Kristopher Letang. 

Kris was like an illusion that would constantly escape his reach. Sometimes, he would give hope to Marc-André by letting his touch linger too much on his skin. Sometimes, he would disappoint Marc-André by telling him he could not be there tonight because he had important things to do.

Marc-André sighed and buried his face deeper in his pillow. He wanted Kris to be there with him. The only thing that could imitate Kris' presence in the room was one of his soft cotton Kasual shirts, laying somewhere in Marc-André's closet.

Without thinking further on it, Marc-André lifted his long, lean body from the bed and went to grab Kris' shirt. The goalie came back and threw himself on his bed with the t-shirt tightly held in his arms. Marc-André took in the smell of Kris and felt himself shiver.

The smell was typically Kris; musky yet discretely perfumed with the most fancy of odours. The manly smell was accentuated by one of Kris' Hugo Boss "eau de parfum" that Marc-André loved so much. The goalie moaned with the memories this smell brought back to him. Memories of Kris' strong, wide hands holding the back of his neck and kissing his temple in an outburst of joy.

When Kris kissed him, Marc-André blushed furiously and could only giggle helplessly. Kris couldn't know the effect these simple actions had on his friend. But what had Marc-André melting was when Kris told him how good and perfect he was. The tip of his ears, hidden by his shoulder-lenght dark hair, would turn red from the words.

"T'es l'meilleur, Marc! Criss, que t'es bon." (You're the best, Marc. Christ, you're so good)

Marc-André could hear the words in his head and gave a small, involuntary push of his hips against the plush covering of his bed. He could feel himself harden only at the thought of Kris' words. Marc-André felt a blush spread on his cheeks and at the bridge of his narrow nose. He moaned at the pressure in his shorts and decided to lift his hips up and push them down his long legs.

Marc-André held the shirt tighter against his face and started humping the bed in earnest. His boxer clad dick was rubbing against the fabric; the action had him shivering in need. Soon, Marc-André mouth dropped open and he had to turn his head to the side so that he could breath. 

A long whine escaped his parted lips as he felt his sensitive cockhead brush the waistband of his boxer shorts. Marc-André always got so loud in moments like this. He just couldn't help himself; the sounds spilled from his mouth and he couldn't hold them back. 

"Ahhhh, ouais. Ouais, Kris. Moi pis toi, Kris. Juste toi pis moi." (Yeah, Kris. Only you and me Kris)

Marc-André trailed one of his hands between his body and the bed. He then plunged his hand in his boxer shorts and wrapped his long fingers around his cock and tugged a few times.

The dark hair at his temples was starting to stick against his skin, the arousal sending heat waves throughout his lean frame. Marc-André shook, his nose burying itself in Kris' shirt and one of his other hands gripping with white knuckles at the fabric. 

"Oh, ouais. Kris! Kris! S'te plait, dis moi qu'chuis l'plus beau pis l'meilleur." (Please, Kris. Tell me I'm the prettiest and the best)

Marc-André could hear Kris deep voice telling him just these things in the crook of his slender neck. He could feel Kris' wide hands cupping his jaw and looking at him with burning, dark eyes full of barely repressed hunger. Marc-André imagined Kris crowding him in with his larger, wider body and holding him against a wall... Pushing him against the hard surface and pressing his crotch against his.

The goalie accelerated his pace and humped his bed faster, the headboard knocking against the wall. He was sweating by now, his long sleeved v-neck shirt sticking to his back. A sweet, desperate little whine escaped Marc-André's parted lips as he felt his balls draw up and his body shake with his imminent need to cum.

His long, dexterous fingers tightened around his erection as he imagined Kris whispering naughty things in his ears. Marc-André felt goosebumps rise the soft hair on his skin as he heard the words in his ears: "Allez, Marc-André. Tu ferais n'importe quoi pour moi, en??" (Let's go, Marc-André. You'd do anything for me, hmm?)

Marc-André's back arched and he spilled all over his hand and the inside of his boxers. A loud, unrestrained moaned echoed against the walls of his empty house as ropes of white cum painted the fabric. What a mess he'd made...

Marc-André bit Kris' shirt and panted against it. The effort had left him boneless and ridiculously turned on. The goalie's cock gave a last twitch in his hand as he thought about what Kris would say about all this. How he'd look at him, whining and squirming like a little slut on his own bed.

Marc-André closed his heavy lidded eyes and fell asleep, imagining Kris loving him back and finally giving him what he wanted so badly.

**Author's Note:**

> Your man, Marc-André, Dakota. <3
> 
> \---> My Tumblr: [thenaughtyvirgin91](http://thenaughtyvirgin91.tumblr.com)
> 
> PLEASE: LEAVE ME A COMMENT!! Don't be shy, why do you linger in the shadows??


End file.
